I dreamed there was a place for me,
that I’d be there, that I’d be free,
but daylight ripped me cruelly from those visions.
I thought, by chance, I’d found my way,
that I was here and here to stay,
but now I see my life needs new revisions.
I know not where I’m heading now,
not where I stand, not where I bow,
but every path’s the same without a reason.
Without purpose, I wander on.
I’ve no sunset; I’m absent dawn.
But what is good within this bitter season?
Your poems seem a bit more morose lately. I hope you’re okay.
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I think so. Thanks for checking.
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